June 17, 2009

Quit asking for my approval or you'll get it

Sigh. Anger makes the best blog posts


I've not been as angry as of late. Unfortunately I just had a bust up with my mother a little while ago so I decided to get some things, definitively, off my chest.

Warning: Cursing abounds, read at your own risk. Vague suicidal fantasies (don't worry though)

Some weeks ago, I admitted I have a problem with interracial relationships. To re-summarize that post, on the surface I've actually got no issues with interracial love, but rather, my psychological problems which I never address kind of get in the way of me fully accepting it.

Well, since writing that post, and a few others in which I realize I may have some issues, I've been taking some time to unpack myself and see where I stand. Like moving into a new residence however, it isn't easy. You never realize how much you have or how small your world really is. And then you're just left with clutter & what to do with it.

So, since it's so close to myself at the moment, I tried unpacking myself regarding interracial relationships and now I have to reveal a couple of more things about myself that you may have already picked up on: I am horribly, horribly passive aggressive. Combined with defensive sarcasm this makes me an excellent person to deal with most of the time as you can imagine. That'll come in later.

So I slightly tweeted this but this is the whole story, as it happened to me. It's hot in my room because I have no AC and it's already getting towards the 60s outside so I go downstairs to mommy's room for a bit. She's talking to her latest beau on the phone, relatively young dude, seems pretty nice. Whatever. She's talking and I hang around in the desk chair, say hi to him. They talk and he makes some comment about if he had come over this morning I'd have been sent up to my room. I ask why & mom giggles, he says because they'd be doing...adult things. My eye twitches.

Innocuous isn't it? Too bad "sending me to my room" and "adult things" is a serious trigger for me considering that it seemed like most of my childhood I was being sent away to my room so the menfolk could enjoy mommy. So I hope you can understand why my first reaction was to turn dramatically in the chair and ask him what the hell he was talking about. They figure I'm joking around I guess and at first I was. Then all I remember after that is rage and a stream of "nigga" directed at this poor white dude, then being chastised for being vulgar.

Okay, here's why I found the joke not really that funny. For one thing, bitch I am a year shy of 20 years old, making you like...10 years older than me, if that. Second, you don't live here. Third, that was just random & kind of disrespectful. Fourth, fuck you. Fifth, no for real, fuck you.

Yes I was triggered. Not badly but I had a couple of flashbacks of loneliness and sadness. I often complain about folks not understanding my pain, usually because I don't make a big deal about it and this was one of those moments. Let me explain.

For some reason after the incident with my ex-stepfather *shudder* every man mommy dated had to get my...approval. And frankly, the way I got treated and the fact that I already had a father, and my burgeoning distrust of white people was every time going to guarantee not a no but a hell no. So it was usually my fault that mommy ended up lonely. Always my fault because I couldn't be more accepting. I tried to stay out of it because of that but she kept pulling me back in. I didn't WANT to "accept" anyone ever again.

Fastforward years later, I STILL try to keep out this shit. I don't want to meet her boyfriends. I don't bloody fucking care because it usually if not always end in white guy deciding I don't like him (whether I actually do or not) and them scuttling off, thus making it my fault AGAIN that mommy is lonely. I'm fucking tired of A) this happening B) being blamed. I guess it is my fault because I want nothing to do with her relationships. Why the fuck should I? For the next 3-4 years I'm not even going to be home half the year, I just live in this damn house. Quit fucking asking for my approval because I don't have any.

(yes I've told her this, yes she won't listen, rinse & refuckingpeat)

Anyway, as for how this story ended, I got angry at being disrespected so, and mommy tells her beau to just ignore me. I laugh about it because I still can't believe this nigga. It's really not a big deal, I just wanted to establish that I'm not fucked with lightly. Again I'm blamed for mommy's boyfriends always leaving and for a clear moment, again, I accept that it is my fucking fault and I cease to give a fuck.

So they hang up, I get up to throw something away and am ceremoniously dismissed by the door slamming & probably locking. I laugh again and mutter, "Damn" and just reflect on how dad never does this, then decide to unpack this for the viewing audience at home. Do I think I was right? Hell no. Did I comically overreact? I guess. You don't even have to be on my side at this point because most of the time I'm not sure I am either. I just know that I'm done having to heave out my rusty stamp of approval for people I usually don't care about, and they likewise don't care about me unless I'm standing in their way.

How, HOW can I make my mother see that this is the reason I don't bother anymore? Leave me the fuck out of it. Treat me more like your son if you have to, I DO NOT want anything else to do with this. I've already told you countless time about how I feel regarding your taste in men, you need to become a better judge of character and stop using me as some sort of human litmus test because you didn't listen to me then and you probably won't listen now. I'm done. You're not fucking up my young adulthood with this so we can just sweep it under the rug later. Furthermore, stop asking "what's wrong" with me, you goddamn well know what's wrong with me.

Sigh. Fuck my life, really, I'd be dead if I weren't concerned about funeral costs.

Edyt of no consequence: If you got through all that and you're thinking, "Uh that's not productive to your unpacking at all?" don't worry. It surely is not. Despite being in the vein of some stuff I was thinking about, this particular incident was less about my issues with interracial relationships and more about this motherfucker managed to trigger my emotions & disrespect me, over a phone, in my own house, and the total hilarity of my mother locking me out of her room. It just sparked some thoughts.

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